Must stop writing past midnight
Sunday, March 07, 2010
1000 words a day
It may take some time working up to that, but then the figured climb may take some reasoned acclimatisation there
It's not like I can think of anything that would engender 1000 words of coherent thought
Back up and beholden to the reek of conscionable ideals, each less well than the last
That's an overuse of the intellect, right there. Why does it seem that an attribution or situation is any better told by my drunken brother safe in his cups, than me, plying the trade of intoxicated vigour.
I should put a question mark after that, but have run out of cigarettes and alcohol so therefore won't.
Maybe I'll revisit Albonia (link) where I managed to put in all the various wholes that weren't half summed by bright realisation.
Means and averages - Darwin couldn't work out why natural selection didn't average out until it's found the bland answer to grass and tree, or the desert, is the solution: a million miles of altruistic vegetable colluding in succour of light.
Why there had to be spikes of predator, as the Origin of the Species neither explains speciation nor justifies diversity.
This base algorithm of blind science when put up against the rolling eye of omniscient purpose (though purpose for what).
Teleology is opposed to atheism as it seeks to find purpose in the little waves of everything breaking, yet that striving for explanation is in itself a contradiction.
Why bother investigating the panoply of undiscovered purpose if there is a purpose? Surely best to ride along without self-engendered moral compass, as fairy belief moves you on anyway?
Why disinter the ghosts encrypted in tombs of text if all they say is what you already know? What special knowledge of unknowingness marks you out as better able to map ignorance?
Who gives a fuck what the dead sea scrolls say, if all they do is reinforce the shuttered acceptance of mystery still in suburban redoubts?
Why would you give a fuck about the revealed truth, if you believed anyway?>
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Introduced by fuck weevils, this phone has all the features of this other phone, but with added sweaty importuning
It has more features, but like a face, doesn't really require them
It has bigger cream and more vanilla. And this is supposedly asked for.
Therefore it wins the fuck out of the competition the other phone didn't enter
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Some dogs digging through the mess of when we died found an electric regress
Where static angels climbed up tesla's poles
And magnetically said
This is the reason, this is why this curls around
And then it's dead again
The shallow brown litter of where once we were
Now wind goes, and stirs up tickets and coupons
Round the base of latter triumph, dead and gone
Sucks up colours and makes it black and white
Takes history and makes it semaphore signifier for gone time
Somehow, sometime sucks the pith and vinegar
And renders it two tone two steps removed
But this is my life metered out in fading photographs
And yellow print
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Towing a line out of the reeks of someone else's canal
This is the reason and rhyme of not doing it. Not having it and being angry and redfaced, and spitting vinegar in the line.
Wondering when I'm not the recipient for every other little bitter aside.
It's enough to have a happy heart?